The Maniac of the Cabaret
by TheDramaticMonarch
Summary: [Act One, Scene Six UP] The cast of JTHM star in this loose parody of The Phantom of the Opera. Rating changed to M.
1. Introductory Notes, Prologue

_**The ****MANIAC ****of the ****CABARET**_

_A Fan Fic by TheDramaticMonarch_

First things first, the following is a primary cast list to help you remember who is playing who in the story. Yes, I am aware that some roles are a bit of a stretch for some characters in terms of age, gender (ie. Squee as Madame Giry and Tess as Piangi). I am equally aware that some of the characters in this story are actually dead in a majority of the comic (ie. Edgar and Dillon).

**_CAST_**

_Johnny C. as The Phantom_

_Devi D. as Christine_

_Todd "Squee" Casil as Madame Giry_

_Tenna as Meg Giry_

_Damned Elize as Andre/Firmin_

_Mr. Casil as Lefevre_

**_A MURDER OF CROWES_**

**_A Darkwave Quintet_**

_Anne Gwish as Carlotta (Lead Vocals)_

_Dillon as Buquet (Lead Guitar)_

_Edgar Vargas as Raoul (Bass Guitar)_

_Jimmy as The Drummer (Drums)_

_Tess R. as Piangi (Keyboards)_

**_THE VOICES_**

_Psycho Doughboy as The Voice of Torment_

_Mr. Eff as The Voice of Manipulation_

_Nailbunny as The Voice of Reason_

_Shmee as The Voice of "Guidance"_

_**DISCLAIMER: **_"JTHM" belongs to Jhonen Vasquez and Slave Labor Graphics and "The Phantom of the Opera" belong to (respectively) Gaston Leroux (the novel), Andrew Lloyd Webber (the musical) and Joel Schumacher (the film). I do not intend to make any profits off of this story.

Now on with the story!

_**The PROLOGUE**_

A brisk chill sailed through the humid burnt orange sky overlooking Los Angeles. The smoggy grey clouds of pollution blocked out most of what could have been a dazzling sunset. Tall steel streetlamps illuminated the downtown district tucked away from the shiny plastic kingdom of Hollywood and Beverly Hills. This district was adorned with tattoo parlors, cafes and alternative boutiques.

A teenaged boy in a baggy black Nine Inch Heels sweater was accompanied with a snow white, jade haired girl around his age as they walked down the cracked and littered sidewalk. They stopped at a demolished brick building. The paint was peeling on a sign that was barely clinging onto the thin black pole.

"Hey Liz, isn't this that old Macabre Cabaret place that's, like, haunted or some shit like that?" asked the boy as he tossed away his burnt out cigarette.

"Of course it's the Macabre Cabaret. It says so on the sign. God, Kyle, you're such a retard," snorted Liz.

"Yeah, well I heard some guy committed suicide onstage and his ghost started killing everyone or some shit like that."

"No, I've heard stories about a metal band going on a killing spree and then, like, torched the building to destroy the evidence or something. I think they died in the fire too…or something. Whatever."

"Well, do you wanna see for yourself?"

Liz paused and fiddled with her ankh pendant. "Um, isn't the door locked and stuff?" She pointed at the heavily chained and padlocked door.

"No shit, Sherlock. I meant through the windows. Here."

Kyle motioned Liz to the window covered by planks of splintered wood. The teenagers peeked through the small slits through the wood covered window. From what they could make out, they saw singed black drapes, cracked stone gargoyles and a shattered chandelier in the center of the dark sea of ashes, dust and cobwebs.

"Ha! I was right! There must have been some fire. So much for your theory, Kyle," gloated Liz.

"Don't be so sure about that," a deep male voice chimed in which made Kyle and Liz flinch and let out a small scream. They turned around and saw a tall, slender young twenty-something in a black trench coat and black leather combat boots.

"Holy shit, you, like, scared the crap out of us," stuttered Liz who turned to see Kyle chuckling under his breath. She nudged her elbow into his rib.

"Hey!" snapped Kyle.

"Anyway, I was sitting on the bench by the bus stop over there and I couldn't help but overhear your discussion about the Macabre Cabaret. Needless to say, I've heard all of those rumors over the years but none of them are true," said the young man, blowing the long jet black bangs out of his face. "I know what happened that night…"

"No way! You're bullshitting us, man. You're probably gonna tell us some huge ass rambling lie. C'mon Liz, let's go get baked," said Kyle.

The man crossed his arms and let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, do you wanna kill more brain cells or do you want to know the truth about the Macabre Cabaret and brag to your little friends that you know the _real_ story about what happened that night?"

Liz nodded her head. After watching Liz for a few seconds, Kyle finally nodded his head in agreement.

"Okay. We might need to find a bench to sit on and get comfortable because you're in for one hell of a tale. Come with me…"

The young man began to walk towards a nearby bench as Kyle and Liz followed the man's coat tails flying in the wind, curious and intrigued about the story this young man had to offer…


	2. Act One, Scene One

**_DISCLAIMER: _**Standard disclaimers apply for this chapter.

* * *

_**ACT ONE**_

_**Scene One**_

_Los Angeles,_

_Twelve Years Ago…_

A bright splash of sunshine washed over Los Angeles as the June heat was slowly being turned up several notches. The highway was clogged with cars filled with frustrated and anxious people itching to get home from work and kick up their heels, celebrating the weekend.

Away from the traffic and deep in the downtown district, the Macabre Cabaret, the popular nightclub amongst the goth community, was inhabited by A Murder of Crows. The darkwave band had been rehearsing all afternoon for their forthcoming gig at the club later that evening.

As the band went over another run-through of their song, other matters were being dealt with on the second floor of the building. A small eight year old boy clutching onto a haggard brown teddy bear was standing in a small cramped office watching his father, a tall bespectacled man obscured by the shadows, packing away random items into a large suitcase.

"Daddy? Why are you packing?" asked the boy with a small quiver in his voice.

"Listen, kid, I'm going on a vacation away from this miserable life. Managing this nightclub in order to support your existence…damn. Being a manager and having to support a pathetic waste of flesh for a kid just takes everything out of me."

"A vacation? Can I come? Can Shmee come too?"

"No."

"But daddy! Where will I go? What'll I do?"

"Shut up, dependent. Your constant shrill whining is giving me migraines. You're gonna be staying here, dusting and mopping the tables and chairs."

"Staying here?! But the tables are filled with all sorts of tiny scary little dust buggies! It gets all dark and spooky here at night with the gargoyles, loud music and tall people with crazy hair and big stompy boots!! And-and-and…" the child began to stutter, "There's that creepy ghost man that keeps telling me to give you notes! Shmee says I shouldn't trust him but if I don't he'll chop me up into little itty bitty bits!! SQUEEEE!!!"

"Todd, how many times must we go over this? There is no "creepy ghost man" anywhere in this building. All of those mysterious disappearances were just stories people made up to give this club publicity…or were they all accidental deaths? Shit if I remember," said the man as he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Todd let out a small "squee" and held Shmee closer to his chest.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I signed the club to a new owner. If I'm lucky, maybe she'll try to adopt you," said the man as he opened the door to reveal a tall, pale, lithe woman in a tight fitting black suit jacket and pencil skirt.

"Todd, this is Elize Davenport—"

"Please, just Mademoiselle Elize will be fine," chimed Elize, brushing past Todd's father and approached Todd. The boy barely reached Elize's knees in height. Todd looked up to see the towering woman's narrow dark eyes staring down at him like a hawk.

"And who might you be, young man?" she asked in her lightest voice.

"T-Todd?"

"Well, I can see that you two are hitting it off. I better get going now…" said the man as he abruptly slammed the door without looking back or a word of goodbye.

An awkward air of silence began to fill the office as Todd stared at Elize through his bulging brown eyes.

"So…Todd? Would you like to see the band rehearse?"

"S-sure…" squeaked Todd.

Elize opened the office door, motioning to Todd to make his way onto the balcony on the second floor. Todd and Elize stopped at the railing and observed the surroundings of the Macabre Cabaret. Black crushed velvet drapes flowed down beneath the stone gargoyle statues that complimented the deep burgundy walls. Hanging high above the room was an elaborate, ornate black chandelier that gave the final touches for a mysterious, gothic atmosphere. Todd noticed two young women; one with violet ponytails and a porcelain complexion, the other much darker in skin tone, spiky haired and what appeared to be a small squeaky toy in the pocket of her baggy green pants, carrying in a large framed painting. Surrealist swirls of blacks, blues, purples and blood reds. As the two women began nailing a hook onto the wall, Elize and Todd's attention shifted to the sound of two drumsticks being tapped together.

"One! Two! Three! Four!!" the scrawny, spiky haired drummer hollered.

Jimmy began to play a rapid fire drum riff while it began to blend in with the synthesized sounds of a small girl in glasses' electronic keyboards. The subtle, focused bass guitar strums, courtesy of a more subdued, plain man, were beginning to play an intricate role in the melody of the song. Finally, a willowy woman in a clingy black gown clutched her dainty milky-white hands on the microphone, her howling overpowering the crunchy ear piercing electric guitar.

"_Look what you've done to me_

_You've left me here unexpectedly._

_And as the beauty of what was once love fades,_

_I fall into a thousand shattered blades…"_

As the breathy vocalist writhed her way through the dissonant clash of instruments, the violet haired woman winced over the excruciating assault on her ears. To drown out the sounds, she nailed the hammer loudly onto the hook.

"Fuck, two more hours of this and I'm off for the weekend," she mused to herself.

"Aw, c'mon Devi," the other girl chimed in, "at least we have some music going on while we work on hanging up your paintings and we'll be getting paid so we can have a nice fun weekend out on the town!"

"I won't be spending my 'nice fun weekend' here, Tenna. Not with that so-called-singer making my ears bleed," Devi huffed under her breath.

"_Stuck in this hole,_

_I can't find a goal_

_So I may just stay here_

_And disappear…_

_DISAPPEAR INTO A THOUSAND SHATTERED BLADES!"_

Devi was not alone in her loathing of this noise passed off as music. High above the chandelier, there were rows of wooden planks leading to a small attic. In the dusty, dark space, a shadowy figure was cooped up in the corner with his hands over his ears, head tucked into his sharp kneecaps.

"Can't…_handle this shit polluting my ears!"_ he quietly hissed.

Suddenly, the singer jerked the microphone wire and coughed.

"Hold on, hold on everyone, I'm losing my voice…" she halted as she looked for her cigarette holder. The band stopped playing their instruments as the mohawked guitarist let out an exasperated sigh.

"Again?! Dammit, Anne—"

"It's Anne Gwish, Dillon."

"Whatever, this is the fiftieth time you've stopped the rehearsal so you could preserve your voice…and you go grab another fucking cigarette."

"I'll have you know that I don't just smoke any cigarette but these are clove cigarettes," sighed Anne as she began to take a puff of her _clove_ cigarette.

"We're never gonna get any of our songs right for tonight's gig if you keep going off for fucking smoke breaks."

"Why should any of you care about tonight's gig and getting the music right? They're all coming to see me and not any of you uncool fools. Everyone wishes they could be in my position and be admired for my unique stage presence. Hell, I shouldn't even be in this band. I should be going solo where I can be adored for my individuality and not be surrounded by a bunch of poseurs like all of you!" said Anne, giving the rest of her fellow band members dirty looks through her heavily painted on black eyeliner.

"Morticia Addams called. She wants her image back," coughed Dillon.

"Excuse me?!" snarled Anne.

"You heard me! You think you're so special because of your bottle black hair and caked-on clown powder but really, you just look like you never stopped celebrating Halloween!" barked Dillon.

Before Anne could lunge towards Dillon, Edgar Vargas stopped from fiddling with his bass guitar to attempt to stop what could be yet another Anne and Dillon screaming fist-fight.

"Guys, could you please stop this arguing? We only have two hours left to rehearse and we've spent all this time bickering over unnecessary, trivial matters. Can't we just focus on getting this music right?" Edgar reasoned.

"Edgar, Edgar, Edgar, always trying to be the reasonable one. Why the hell are you even in this band?" sniffed Dillon.

"At least he's trying to set things right," said Tess, looking up from the music notes on her keyboard.

"Stay out of this, Tess!" Dillon shouted.

"You know what? I can't take this anymore. As a soloist, I can make my own decisions and be appreciated for me rather than a collective of complete imbeciles. I'm leaving!" Anne belted as she made her way off the stage with her lunchbox purse in one hand and her clove cigarette in the other.

Suddenly, a loud crash elicited a loud scream from Anne. She turned around to see a fallen stage light right by her feet. She then let out a disgusted sigh.

"I knew it. One of you must have rigged that stage light to fall on me. I should have known it. I can't believe that you still haven't grown out of your petty high school mentality. You only wish you could be like me. You were losers and will always be nothing but pitiful, childish, immature losers."

With that, Anne Gwish stormed out of the Macabre Cabaret doors. Elize already began to panic.

"Shit, it's my first day here and already I have to deal with a band falling apart before they perform here tonight and a broken stage light! They'll fire my ass if I don't do something soon," Elize began to panic but pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. She lit up, took a puff and tried to let her nerves die down.

Todd let out a small cough, a shiver was sent through his body.

"EEK! He's here, he's here, he's here…" he kept repeating to himself.

"Who's here?" asked Elize, taking a drag from her cigarette.

The only response she got was a small "squee".

Back on the stage, Tess could not take her eyes off the crushed stage light. Her mouth was left dangling open as she hugged herself tightly.

"What's gotten into you, Tess?" asked Dillon.

"Is…isn't this place the cursed club? I swear this is the place where a bunch of those people disappeared and died," quivered Tess.

"The Phantom Maniac!" Jimmy burst with great enthusiasm in his voice. "Oh my God, this is so cool! I can't believe we're playing in the place with the Phantom Maniac! Man, I so wish I could be him. If someone were talking shit about me or my favorite band, I would so butcher them! What if he's been listening to our music?! What if he loves it?! We should change our name to The Darkness to honor him!"

"Jimmy," Tess sighed, "how many times have we told you, we're not changing the name of the band! Besides, isn't The Darkness taken by someone else?"

"Shut up, we're without a lead singer for tonight and we need to find a replacement or else we'll have to cancel the gig!" said Dillon.

"I can't do it. I can hardly sing a lick," shrugged Tess.

Jimmy and Edgar shook their heads. They were out of the question.

"These songs are all meant for a female lead and I can't even sing that high without being kicked in the nuts," muttered Dillon. He was interrupted by a loud squeak.

"Devi can do it!!" Tenna shouted as she lowered her squeaky toy Spooky.

"Tenna! What the hell are you talking about? I can't sing. I _don't _sing," Devi said with a stern emphasis on _don't._

"Sure you do! I can hear you singing along to the music from my apartment room and you live on the floor above me. Don't think we can't hear you sing. I know you do. Spooky knows too, don't you Spooky?" said Tenna as she held up Spooky and squeezed the toy.

"Her?!" Dillon pointed to Devi. "No, she doesn't fit with our image. Purple was out last season."

"Says the man in a purple striped shirt," Tess mumbled under her breath.

"Why should we care about image? I think we should give her a chance and let her sing a bit. Then we can decide," said Edgar.

"Look, as much as you all want me to sing. I'm _not_ going to sing for you," said Devi, trying to make an escape to the ladies' room but not before Tenna caught Devi by the shoulder.

"C'mon Devi. It's only a one time thing," said Tenna.

"We'll pay you," said Edgar, "I mean, we're not trying to bribe you or anything but we would really appreciate it if you could help us out for one night."

"I appreciate the offer and everything but the answer is still no," Devi replied.

"It's free money, Devi! Do it, Devi! Devi! Devi! Devi!" Tenna continued chanting, squeaking Spooky to the tune of her chant. The band, with the exception of Dillon, gradually joined the chant.

"_DEVI! DEVI! DEVI!"_

The voices, the loud squeaking, Devi couldn't take the noise and pressure any longer. She stomped her way towards the stage. _I'll kill you for this, Tenna _Devi thought as she stepped into the bright, blinding spotlight. The heat from the light sent a shiver through her skin as Edgar handed her the microphone, their hands brushing briefly. Devi tapped the microphone. It was clearly on. She stood still. Motionless.

"Come on, sing something. Anything" Edgar whispered. Devi spotted Tenna giving her the thumbs up. Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, Devi slowly raised the microphone to her magenta lips and began to sing.

"_Time is like a dream_

_And now, for a time, you are mine._

_Let's hold fast to the dream_

_That tastes and sparkles like wine._

_Who knows (who knows)_

_If it's real_

_Or just something we're both dreaming of…"_

Deep beneath the labyrinths of the club, a sickly thin shadowed figure was washing a blood encrusted knife into a small stone fountain. He immediately froze as he heard a soothing, husky, seductive voice as rich as chocolate echoing through the walls. Entranced, he dropped the knife into the fountain, closed his eyes and let himself become absorbed with this beautiful, soft voice filling the air.

"_What seems like an interlude now_

_Could be the beginning of love._

_What seems like an interlude now_

_Could be the beginning of love…"_

Once Devi stopped singing, she shuffled nervously. A rush of blood to her cheekbones added a rosy color to her face. She looked up to see Tenna's jaw hanging open. Devi turned around and saw Jimmy and Tess in awe. Dillon fiddled his hands, staring at the floor. A small smile crept up on Edgar's narrow face.

"Well?" asked Devi.

"Are you free tonight?" asked Edgar.

"Yeah…?"

"Could you stick around for the rest of the time? We want you to go over our songs for tonight's gig."

"What?!"

Dillon grunted softly and shifted his weight, turning away from the rest of the group.

"You'll be singing with us for tonight."

The blushing began to fade from Devi as her skin became even paler. _Damn you, Tenna_ was her last thought as her head felt light and dizzy. She finally lost all consciousness and fainted with a loud thud.


	3. Act One, Scene Two

**_DISCLAIMER: _**Standard disclaimer applies for this chapter. I forgot to mention in the previous chapter that the song "Interlude" belongs to George De La Rue and Hal Sharper (who wrote the song).

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE: _**Thank you very much to those reading and reviewing this story (you know who you are). Knowing that people are reading and/or reviewing my stories (even if they love it or hate it) makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Also, there were some formatting problems with this chapter so I apologize if there is any confusion regarding this chapter.

* * *

_**ACT ONE**_

_**Scene Two**_

Hours later, the daylight cooled into the evening. The tall, wooden doors of the Macabre Cabaret were opened to the masses following the gothic movement. The club was populated with a variety of ghostly young men and women, decorated head to toe in shades of black, midnight, crimson and plum. The stage lights and the chandelier were the only things keeping the building dimly lit while it made some elaborate jewelry and spiked collars shine in the light. The smell of incense burning filled the air. Couples and cliques sat to the side at tables, the small candles in the center of each table illuminating their artful makeup. Patrons swayed and bopped on the dance floor to the sounds of the deejay spinning the latest track from Einstureunde Something Something.

Backstage, A Murder of Crows were hyping themselves up for their performance. Tess was reading over the music notes one last time. Edgar was tuning his bass guitar while Jimmy was twirling his drumsticks. Dillon was pacing back and forth, staring at the ground scowling.

"Fuck, when's that Devi chick gonna be here?" he mumbled to himself.

Just then, the dressing room door swung open to reveal a disgruntled Devi, looking very awkward in a painfully-tight violet corset top and even tighter long skirt with a frilled slit, exposing a little bit of her leg covered in fishnet stockings.

"Sorry, guys. It's just a little hard to breathe in this thing—"

Devi was interrupted by Elize as she butted in with a clipboard in her arms.

"A Murder of Crows, DJ Damned is wrapping up his set, you guys are on next," said Elize, quickly maneuvering her way through the band.

The frustration morphed into fear as Devi's breathing began to escalate.

"Break a leg…" Dillon whispered, looking at Devi "…bitch."

As the rest of the band made their way to the stage, Devi was slow to follow. She could feel anxiety paralyze her. All those people, staring back at her, scrutinize her every move. Wanting to breathe, wanting to scream. Constricted in embroidery and frills. What the hell did she get herself into?

The band got behind their respective instruments while Devi, shivering and nervous, stepped into the spotlight and was handed the microphone. She cleared her throat, hoping for Jimmy to start the cue for the first song.

Jimmy tapped the drums softly while Edgar joined in with a quick, subtle bass lick. Everything was going smoothly in the song so far…then Dillon chimed in with the melody on his guitar, her cue to start singing.

"_Waves are crashing in,_

_Waiting for the storm to begin_

_Rain is falling down_

_Smiles fade to a frown_

_Thunder_

_I begin to shake_

_Lightning_

_It all begins to break_

_I try to scream_

_Hoping this is all a bad dream_

_Reality remains_

_That I am stuck in the storm of thunder and rain…"_

After playing a set of six songs among thunderous applause, Devi was eager to return to her dressing room. Slamming the door behind her, she sat at the steel stool in front of the vanity mirror. The dim light bulbs and small candelabra on the dresser were keeping the painted brick walls in the room lit. The brick walls were doing their duty by blocking out the blaring music on the dance floor. Devi kicked off her spiked high heeled shoes and stretched out her aching feet, curling her toes. She sighed, relieved that her ordeal in front of the black clad audience was finally over. Quiet time alone to herself, away from the throbbing beats, was about to begin. Just as she was about to peel off her fishnet stockings, she heard a knock on the door.

"Go to hell!" she yelled.

"Devi! It's me! Let me in!" shouted a familiar voice followed by a loud squeak.

_Oh God…_

"Fine…" sighed Devi as she got up to open the door. Tenna was bouncing up and down with joy with a huge grin on her face.

"Holy shit Devi! You were awesome out there! Everyone loved you! I know Spooky did!" beamed Tenna, clutching Spooky in her fist letting out an extended squeak.

"Um, thanks…I highly doubt I'll ever be doing that again," Devi began to blush and trail off.

"C'mon, Devi. I haven't heard any other band get a reception like you just did."

"Didn't you listen to me? I'll never sing again. Besides, I never want to deal with that prick Dillon again."

"Forget about Dillon. That performance was all about you. You're the one that brought everyone's attention to the band," Tenna paused "so…how did you start singing? Did you take any choir lessons or something?"

Sighing, Devi turned to Tenna.

"I wasn't involved with choir or any music classes in school but I remember my dad playing the guitar downstairs while I would be painting in my room. Sometimes I would just sing along quietly, so nobody would hear me, y'know? Some days I would just make up random lyrics, hum along to the guitar, matching the pitch of the guitar. It was pretty soothing to say the least."

"Ah, but why didn't you join a choir?"

Devi immediately shot Tenna a glare.

"The choir just wasn't my thing. Singing in formation with everyone else, dealing with instructors that wouldn't know what harmony and musical expression was even if it fucked them in the ass…"

"Oh."

"Yeah…if you wouldn't mind, I'd kinda like to be alone right now and get out of these things. Fuck, how tight do they make these corsets?" Devi said while struggling to arch her back in the confining corset.

"Tight enough to make your spleen explode," said Tenna. "Well, I better let you prevent your spleen from exploding because you have a very fine spleen. See you, Devi"

"Bye Tenna."

Before Tenna closed the door, she stopped to turn and look at her friend.

_You were great tonight... _she thought, closing the door.

Devi was finally free to get out of the costume and throw on her favorite black shirt and cargo pants. She dreamed about going back to her apartment and paint away all the memories of that hectic day turned upside down.

After tossing away the fishnet stockings, Devi was eager to get out of the embroidered cage (in the form of a corset) around her torso. As she undid the small silver hooks keeping the corset together, she heard yet another knock on the door.

"What now?! My boobs are kinda popping out right now so don't bother trying to break in or I'll neuter you!" yelled Devi, instinctively covering her exposed breasts with the folded halves of the corset.

_Or maybe, uh, spay, depending on who it is…_

"Devi? It's Edgar. Uh, I can tell that you're busy right now but I just wanted to apologize for Dillon's behavior earlier. I know he can be a bit of a hard-headed person and a bit of a jerk sometimes but he had no right to say those things about you today," said Edgar from the other side of the dressing room door.

"_Devi…"_

The distinct, raspy echo interrupted Devi's thoughts. That did not sound like Edgar one bit.

"_Bravo, Devi. You were astonishing tonight. You managed to bleach out the intestinal scrape that was Anne Gwish's abysmal shitty vocals in my mind. I can only thank you filling my mind with the most stunning, exquisite voice that I've heard come out of this rotten club."_

"Um, anyway, I also wanted to say that you did a great job tonight and the band is extremely thankful that you were able to fill in for Anne at the last minute. The rest of the band is planning on going to that café down the street in half an hour and I was wondering if you would like to join us?"

Devi was so focused on trying to figure out where this other voice was coming from that she didn't even hear Edgar's invitation to the café.

"Um, what was that again?" asked Devi.

"Well, the rest of the band is going down to Café le Prick to have a few drinks. I'm not sure if Dillon is coming or not but we'll pay you there…"

"_Devi, I said that you brought light and joy into an otherwise dreary and miserable week. Never have I smiled and felt so warm and safe. Thank you, Devi…"_

"Who…who are you?" Devi quivered with a small voice, quickly hooking her corset back together.

"Devi, it's Edgar. I can understand if the music is loud and your ears are still ringing a little bit from the gig but I was wondering…"

"_Devi, look at the mirror. No, not that mirror; this mirror…"_

Devi turned around to face the full length mirror next to the wardrobe. A light flickered on to reveal a tall, skeletal man adorned in a black floor length coat, unique steel toed boots resembling a hawk's talons and spiky dark blue hair. But what stood out most to a stunned Devi was the white mask covering half of the figure's face. He was standing in what appeared to be a dingy, makeshift elevator as he opened the small knob on the other side of the mirror, opening what was really a mirror window door hybrid.

"Devi? Are you okay in there? Devi? Devi?"

"_Come with me. You won't deal with these defects pestering you with their idiocy…"_

The man reached out a gloved hand towards Devi. She could sense the hesitance in his shaking hand. She placed her hand in his, feeling the chilling grip as the man lead her into the elevator.

"Devi? Hello? Devi?!"

Fear and panic rising in Edgar, he knocked wildly at the door, not getting a response. He tried turning the knob. No such luck. He reached into his pocket for his guitar pick to use as an impromptu key. After a few tries trying to unlock the door, Edgar finally barged into the dressing room.

He looked around, his jaw dropping, eliciting a gasp.

The room was empty.


	4. Act One, Scene Three

**_DISCLAIMER: _**As usual, standard disclaimers apply for this chapter

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_** I hope everyone here has had a happy holiday and an equally happy new year's eve. This chapter has been long overdue so let's cut to the chase, shall we?

* * *

_**ACT ONE**_

_**Scene Three**_

Muffled sounds of mechanical devices turning and clicking filled the narrow elevator. The only thing separating Devi and the masked stranger in the very tight space was a flickering light bulb hanging from a thin rusty chain on the ceiling. Devi observed her limited surroundings and determined that the fading chipped beige wallpaper in the elevator was not very interesting to look at. She turned to look at the man standing next to her, clutching his gangly arms tightly around himself.

She saw him look straight ahead at the two-way door. All that they could see was darkness. So many questions ran through her head; who was this man? What could he possibly want with her? Deciding to be brave, Devi broke the silence by clearing her throat. Before she could speak, a small "ping" interrupted her. The elevator stopped.

"We're here," said the man as he opened the door.

"What is this?" asked Devi.

"You'll see."

The man motioned to Devi to step into the tall, cavernous hallway. More flickering and burned out light bulbs were hanging on the ceiling from thin rusty chains. Cracks and bizarre markings of deranged stick figures adorned the stone walls which resembled a deep, sickly green in the dark light.

"Damn, I thought those lights were fixed…" the man mumbled, trailing off.

"We could just use that flashlight over there," said Devi as she picked up a black plastic flashlight in the corner of the room.

"I suppose," sighed the man as the snatched the flashlight out of her hands.

He flicked on the switch on the flashlight and a small beam of light lit the shadowy pathway. Despite this light, the room still attained an air of grimy murkiness.

"Follow me," he said, nodding his head in the direction ahead…

The two reached the end of the hallway to a steep staircase. There still was not much interaction between the two but it was all about to change in a matter of seconds…

"Devi?"

"Y-yes?"

"Can you sing that song for me? Please?" he whispered.

"What?"

"It's just me and you. No one else can hear you. No jackasses can spew rot at you. No one can mock you. Nobody will leer at you like a drooling horny beast. All you have is me to admire the beauty of your voice…sing for me, Devi. None of that Murder of Crows shit. That other song…"

"'Interlude?'"

"Yes, I think that's what it is. Please. Sing…"

As Devi and the masked man walked down the stairs, Devi took a deep breath, ready to give an encore for a captivated fan…

"_Time is like a dream_

_And now for a time, you are mine._

_Let's hold fast to the dream_

_That tastes and sparkles like wine…"_

As they descended down the stairs, Devi was joined by the singing voice of a throaty tenor, the man himself…

"_Who knows (who knows)_

_If it's real_

_Or just something we're both dreaming of_

_What seems like an interlude now,_

_Could be the beginning of love…"_

The smallest of smiles sneaked its way onto Devi's lips as she looked to find the man looking back at her with a grin. With that, a duet was born.

"_What seems like an interlude now,_

_Could be the beginning of love…"_

The two entered another hallway as a thick, cool mist began to sift through the hall. The flowing coat tails of the man's black coat brushed away most of the mist, clearing a path for Devi to follow him. Suddenly, the man stopped at what appeared to be the start of a small wooden dock leading out to a vast lake that stretched well beyond from what the eye could see. Torches were attached to the walls. The reflection of the flames in the water resembled fireflies flittering in a clear night sky. A long, narrow canoe fit for two was roped to the pole of the dock, swaying softly in the lake. A thin steel oar lay by the edge of the dock.

"A lake? There's a lake down here?" asked Devi.

"Yeah, why not?" shrugged the man as he led Devi to the canoe. He did his best to steady the canoe in order to make sure Devi wouldn't fall into the lake. Once she got in, he grabbed the oar and stood at the back of the boat and began to paddle.

"Now where were we?" he asked.

"Yes, I remember now…"

Devi initiated the starting point of the duet.

"_What seems like an interlude now,_

_Could be the beginning of love…"_

"Ah, yes," the man grinned, joining Devi in the spontaneous union of two voices singing together.

"_Loving you is a world that's strange_

_So much more than my heart could hold._

_Loving you makes the whole world change_

_Loving you, I could not grow old._

_No, nobody knows_

_When love will end_

_So 'til then, sweet friend…_

_Time is like a dream_

_And now for a time you are mine._

_Let's hold fast to the dream_

_That tastes and sparkles like wine._

_Who knows (who knows)_

_If it's real_

_Or just something we're both dreaming of…"_

The mist began to fade, the flames became brighter and a dominant, black barred gate became clear in the distance. The gate began to open…

"_What seems like an interlude now_

_Could be the beginning of love._

_What seems like an interlude now_

_Could be the beginning of love._

_What seems like an interlude now_

_Could be the beginning of love…"_

Once Devi and the man rowed past the gate, he stopped rowing and let the canoe float on its own in the lake. They stopped at a stone post with the head of that same deranged stick figure in the hallway they entered previously. As the man put the rope attached to the boat onto the post, Devi quickly scanned her unfamiliar surroundings. Old paintings, perhaps even more surreal and demented than her own creations, barely hung onto the rusty nails and hooks hammered into the walls. Stuffing and metal screws were squeezing out of the old brown couch but one thing that caught her eye was a desk with stacks of paper, Indian ink and a lantern. She also noticed a wooden dresser with a mirror tucked behind cream, red speckled velvet drapes. On top of the dresser were two styrofoam sculptures resembling doughboys painted with great attention to detail.

"Devi…"

She snapped back into the present and noticed the man standing at the top of the small stone staircase behind the pole with his arms crossed.

"Oh…" she uttered as she got out of the raft and walked up the stairs joining the man. He took off his coat to reveal his black and white striped sleeved shirt with two long coat-like tails trailing from the back of his shirt and stopping just behind mid-calves. While he hung up the jacket onto a dusty gold coat rack, Devi saw what appeared to be a symbol on his back. A large black "Z" partnered with a question mark.

_Z?_ _What the hell?_

"I must say that your voice is even more stunning in person, especially when these walls are clouding everything. Once again, bravo, Devi…" said the man as he handed Devi a deep red rose.

"Well, why thank you…um…" stuttered Devi.

"My name is Johnny but you may call me Nny."

"Nny, huh? That's pretty clever actually."

"Simplicity is often most effective, unlike that vile bitch…Anne Gwish, something or other. Fuck, I would rather drive sharp pencils into my ears than listen to her wailing."

"God, I know," Devi laughed. "And then she goes on to smoke like a chimney in order to 'preserve her voice?' What the hell? It makes no sense and don't get me started on Dillon…"

"Dillon, yes, that complete and utter asshole," said Johnny, rubbing his bony gloved hands. "You're not the only person that he has spat at and stomped all over. He berates everyone and anyone that doesn't fit his so-considered little 'goth world.' Fuck, I don't think he even knows how to properly hold a guitar. That wasn't the only reason why he was kicked out of Clod of Xylophone, though. He did a whole lot of other shit that pissed off the rest of the band…"

"You know, that doesn't surprise me, Nny," said Devi. She stopped to breathe in the sweet scent of the rose. "This is lovely. I've never had anyone give me a rose. Most of the time I end up getting those cheap plastic roses you find in the dollar store…or if I'm lucky, a withering dead rose."

"Wh-why…um, thanks," Johnny blushed. "I actually searched for the best roses I could find earlier tonight but then there was this incredibly annoying flower vendor who thought that I looked…" He began to shudder, his eyebrows furrowing in fury. "…wacky."

"That's dumb."

"I know but I let him know who was the, ahem, 'wacky' one…" he let out a deep chuckle from the pit of his concave stomach. "Oh, you should have seen the look on his face when I…I…" Johnny exploded into a fit of cackling.

Devi chuckled softly, twirling her finger around the rose petals and staring down at the ground. Her attention turned to a painting of a bloodshot eyeball with screaming pupils and hooks plunging into the cornea.

"Say, I really like this painting. The colors really stand out and I can definitely feel that eyeball's pain," said Devi, pointing at the painting.

"I painted that thing years ago. I've been on a bit of a break from painting such things. I've been mainly doing comics for the last while for my own such amusement: Happy Noodle Boy. If you've been observant, you should have seen him all over the place."

Devi looked at the stone pole. It finally came to her.

"Oh! That must be him, isn't it?" said Devi, sounding as if she had discovered the cure for cancer.

"Well aren't you the bright one," said Johnny. "There's another thing. I'm sure you were part of the reason I decided to try painting again."

"Really?"

"Yeah, um, I can show it to you, if you like…y-you don't have to if you don't want to."

"Oh, Nny. I like all the paintings I've seen so far so I'm sure this one is just as good," said Devi with a reassuring smile.

"Okay. Come with me…"

Devi followed Johnny to a spot with a large wooden crate of nails sitting across from an easel. A white canvas decorated with deep red swirls and spirals that formed small music notes and an intricate yet familiar shape.

"As you can tell, I'm not quite finished yet. There's a few more things that I need to really give this piece the beauty it deserves," said Johnny.

Devi looked closer at the painting. From what she could make out, the shape looked more familiar to her. _Is that…two D's? Intertwining?_ she thought as she also recognized a strong metallic scent. She looked down beside the easel and saw a bucket filled with a deep red liquid she assumed was paint. _No, it can't be paint. I've been painting for years now and never has any paint smelled like that…_

She looked down at the bucket and noticed a small round bump. Scanning closely, she noticed there was a little bit of brown, white and black in the bump…staring back at her. A _sight_ all too familiar. _Holy shit!_

Devi gasped stepped back from Johnny's piece feeling all too light headed. She collapsed to the ground with a thud. Johnny looked down to see an unconscious Devi lying at his feet. Confusion and panic rose in his mind. His shoulders quickly tensed up. He stepped backward, letting Devi's body slide gently off his boots. His head jerked back and forth to Devi…and the fountain containing a knife beneath the water. Johnny shook his head and kneeled down to Devi. His hands began to shake as he nervously crept his left hand beneath her neck, letting the weight of her head rest against his hand. He took a deep breath. His shoulders dropped. The tension was melting.

He scooped his right arm beneath her legs and lifted her into his arms. Despite his emaciated build, Johnny somehow managed to develop a surprising amount of strength over the previous years of doing away with the defects and assholes of the world. His arms shook.

_No, you've done this before. You've carried passed out and bloodied bodies before…but will she be one of them?_ Sweat was pouring down his temples, beneath the white mask.

With Devi in his arms, Johnny staggered his way to a separate area greeted by torn black lace curtains. A lantern hung from the ceiling, high above a dusty, canopied bed. Johnny cautiously placed Devi onto the bed and wrapped the turquoise silk sheets around her body. He also placed the softest pillow he could find under her head. Johnny turned to leave the space but stopped to look back at Devi, calm and serene on a turquoise cocoon. He shut the curtains in the space, letting Devi sleep in peace…for now.

High above the underground lair and into the buzzing, busy night club, the rest of A Murder of Crows were lounging around backstage in the green room, which in reality was painted a mustard yellow. Edgar was fiddling with the cross pendant hidden in his pants pocket while Jimmy and Dillon were sharing their third bottle of vodka. As Jimmy swayed tipsily, Dillon lay on Tess' lap as she was holding his woozy body up.

"Man, if I ever met the Phantom Maniac, I swear, I'd give him a big ass hug, tell him he should run for president and then we'll all live in a city of gold and unicorns and dragons riding shopping carts and eating sno-cones…" Jimmy trailed off before taking another swig of vodka.

"God, you still believe in that stupid Phantom Maniac shit?" Dillon wailed. "I tell you, he doesn't fucking exist! If he did exist, he would have better things to do than haunt some stupid nightclub."

"But how do you explain that light falling, dude-man?"

Meanwhile, Todd, with Shmee in tow, was wandering backstage but stopped at the green room door once he had heard Dillon. He stood behind the door left ajar and proceeded to listen to the rest of the discussion.

"It was just a god damn coincidence. Like I said, if he really did exist, he would probably be some skinny ass loser going around trying to pretend to be something he's not. He'd probably buy all of his Nine Inch Heels shirts at the mall and claim he's their biggest fan when he's only ever heard one song. He would be some zit faced fag with braces getting the shit beaten out of him each day…"

"_You know he'll be listening to him, don't you?"_

"Shmee, it's loud here. How can he hear what he's saying?" whispered Todd to his teddy bear.

"_He will kill him and you know it. Don't deny it,"_ said Shmee, echoing in Todd's head.

"You're silly, Shmee. He's way down in the ground."

"_He can hear everything. Warn him. Save his life. Don't become a crazed killer for the rest of you life like HIM."_

Todd's hands began to shake. His heart was beating rapidly. The door was open. He could easily run in and tell Dillon to be quiet. It was his chance. Todd reached for the door knob, opened the door and stood in the door way between the green room and the hall backstage. The rest of the band stared at Todd, shaking and clutching onto Shmee.

"What the hell do you want, kid?!" barked Dillon.

"…squee."


	5. Act One, Scene Four

**_DISCLAIMER: _**You know the drill.

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_** I'd just like to let you guys know in advance that the reason that there are likely going to be long intervals in between posting chapters is because I am readjusting to a new college semester and I'm trying to get back in the swing of things.

* * *

_**ACT ONE**_

_**Scene Four**_

Saturday daylight was breaking. The sun was slowly rising above Hollywood hills but one would never assume that while they were cooped down in the deep labyrinths beneath the Macabre Cabaret. Lanterns and candles still flickered deep within Johnny's cavern away from the rest of the world around him. He emerged from the exit of a tunnel embedded into a wall. His clothes were stained with the substance dripping from the blade of his butcher's knife.

As he walked over to the small water fountain, he pulled at the hems of his bloody striped shirt, debating about whether or not to change into some clean clothes. His attention was diverted to the tattered lace curtains guarding the bed that was currently being occupied by another person. A fiendish grin curled upwards to his gaunt cheekbones. Johnny crept towards the curtains, careful that his steel toed boots would not make a sound. He pulled back the curtains and stared at the woman sleeping in his bed.

_Devi…_

She shifted onto her back and let out a long, wispy sigh. Ever since she had fainted, Devi remained in a deep sleep. Her arm was outstretched onto a pillow. Her body wrapped in turquoise silk, the dark hues complimenting her delicate skin. Her eyes were closed, lost in another world, oblivious to the reality around her.

As Johnny inched his way closer to Devi, he took out his butcher's knife. His heart raced with each step he made; closer to his sleeping beauty. Anxious just to plunge the sharp blade into her chest, he already fantasized about the way the blood would gush from the open wounds. To hear a small sigh of surprise escape from her lips gave him shivers. He could sense the feeling of her warm blood slipping through his fingers. Despite the carnage, her blissful, angelic visage would remain. The beauty would never decay. Her memory would remain in his mind; the blood would give the final touches to his painting in her honor.

Johnny stood by the bedside, his knife dangling just above Devi's chest, rising and falling with each breath. It was finally time to drive the knife into her…

"_JOHNNY!! WAIT!!"_ a high pitched wail echoed through the cavern.

Johnny jerked his head around. He recognized that voice. He dropped his knife to the ground and made his way out the room and over to a small, decaying bunny with a thick nail punctured through his furry belly and onto a wooden post.

"Nailbunny?" Johnny responded.

"_Were you going to kill that nice girl, Nny? That's not very polite of you now, is it? She did no harm towards you," _scolded Nailbunny, his mouth motionless and his lifeless eyes staring down at Johnny.

"I know…" sighed Johnny.

"_That's right, my dear boy," _another voice chimed in.

Johnny turned to stare at one of the styrofoam doughboys sitting on the dresser. He focused at the one doughboy on the right side with painted stripes and the "Z?" symbol painted on its rotund center.

"_You had the right idea. To take her life now, you would have avoided all the unpleasant shit that comes from a fading relationship, like the petals of a decaying rose; falling to the ground and being crushed on with each step. Each blow more painful than the last. Crumbling into so many little pieces until there is nothing left," _said the striped doughboy.

"Exactly, Mr. Fuck! You know exactly what I'm talking about," smiled Johnny.

"_I do, Johnny. I know these things because I am your friend. Your very best friend…" _said Mr. Fuck, or Eff as he was often referred to.

"_LIARS, JOHNNY!! They're all fucking little liars!!" _a louder, harsher voice boomed.

Johnny stared at the second doughboy sitting on the opposite side of Mr. Eff. This doughboy in particular had psychotic, menacing swirls for eyes and (strangely enough) the word "FUCK" painted across his belly.

"_Neither of those assholes are your friend. They don't know you like I do. I know who you really are so take off that fucking ridiculous mask. Let the whole world see you for who you really are: a disgusting, vile, senseless murderer without any sense of morals or motivation for yourself. You're worthless. You're pathetic. You have nothing to live for so I suggest that you take that knife, drive it into your weak little heart, twist the blade and end it all! The girl has something to live for, you don't," _hissed the other doughboy.

For a few short seconds, Johnny's hands began to shake. He stared down at his boots and twiddled his thumbs.

"Th-th-that's bullshit, Psycho Doughboy!" Johnny stuttered, "There's no way I'm going to try killing myself again. That's not gonna happen…not unlike that last time."

He gently ran his finger along the white mask's cool plastic surface. He shivered upon remembering _that _night. That night when it all went horribly wrong; what should have blown his brains apart instead turned him into _this._

"_Are you still mad over what happened that night? What D-Boy over there did to you? That's a thing in the past. Don't let a little deformity damper your mood. That girl's still sleeping. Go cut her open like a fish. Hold her heart in the palm of your hand. Each pulse a token of a never-dying love," _said Mr. Eff.

"_Shut the fuck up, Eff. I didn't physically hurt our boy. We are merely figures of styrofoam," _Psycho Doughboy retorted back.

"_Never! I am not a figure of styrofoam but a figure of guidance and serenity to Johnny-Boy, here. I am worth more to him than you will ever be!" _said Mr. Eff.

"_Bullshit! Bullshit!" _yelled Psycho-Doughboy.

Meanwhile, Devi stretched out her arms and slowly opened her eyes. She steadily rose up from the blankets and ran her hands against the silk pillow.

"Huh? What the hell?" yawned Devi, studying her strange surroundings. She noticed the hollow, rock solid walls, the canopy above her and flickering light in the room.

_What the hell did I drink last night? Did I even drink anything? Am I tripping out or something? Where am I? Batman's cave?_

Devi's thoughts were quickly interrupted by faint sounds of yelling in the distance. As she got out of bed, Devi looked down and noticed she was still fully clothed.

_I'm not naked. Nobody raped me. That's good…but I'm still in this damn corset. That's not good._

What Devi also saw on the ground made her gasp: a bloody butcher's knife inches away from her feet. It became a clear indication that this wasn't a campy knock-off of Batman's cave. She sensed an intense throbbing from within but the claustrophobic corset prevented her heart from fully pounding, from leaping out of her chest, from letting out a scream of sheer terror.

Devi peered through the tattered curtains to make sense of where she was. She saw a dimly lit pathway but still heard the shouting. The throbbing intensified. Taking a deep breath, Devi stepped into the pathway and tip toed, trying to find the voice and to remember where she was…

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, Psycho Doughboy: I am in NO mood to kill myself right now or any time soon!"

"_YESS!! You're on my side! C'mon, Johnny! Mutilate her like those club kids!" _Mr. Eff cheered.

"_JOHNNY!! Listen to me!! They're using you! No good will come out from either of them. Killing yourself is NOT the answer and neither is killing that girl!" _Nailbunny shouted.

"Well then, Bunny. You do make a pretty good argument. You've always been the honest one," said Johnny.

"_What about me, Johnny? What about your dear friend, D-Boy?" _whimpered Psycho Doughboy,_ "Don't you wanna make your friend happy? Kill yourself. Do it for me."_

"NO!! NO! NO! NO!" Johnny screamed, slamming his fists on the dresser, "No fucking way!!"

"Um, Johnny?" Devi questioned greatly.

Johnny turned around and saw Devi standing a few feet away from him, fiddling nervously with the flowing black sleeves from her top. His clenched fists began to shake, a hiss of hatred seethed through his teeth.

"Dammit! Dammit!! DAMMIT!!" he growled, "Why do you have to make things so fucking complicated?! Why?! WHY?!"

He desperately scanned the area for a knife, a drill, anything. He went to the dresser and pulled at the handle on the drawer which was proving to be quite difficult.

"What exactly did I do—"

"Shut up! Just shut up!!"

"Just listen to me!"

Johnny's shoulders dropped. He gave up on looking for a weapon and let go of the drawer handle. He fell to his knees and curled his wiry body into a small, shaking ball on the concrete ground.

"I…I don't know. You're here in this cesspool…but…you're not one of them," he choked up; a tear fell from his eye. "I-I have no idea anymore…" From then on, only sobs were audible from Johnny.

"Oh…"

Devi took a few small, cautious steps towards Johnny, not taking himself out of his trembling fetal position.

"Wh-wh-what can I--"

"_GO!! GO AWAY!! JUST GO!!_" Johnny screamed through fury and tears.

Devi ran as quickly as she could over to the canoe and began to make her exit from Johnny's underground lair into the world above.

"_Coward," _Mr. Eff and Psych Doughboy cursed under their breaths.

Up above the labyrinths and into the near empty Macabre Cabaret, Todd was sweeping away dust and dirt into the dustpan as he stopped to look at the clock. 11:00 AM, it was time for his break. As Todd made his way over to the storage closet located backstage, he heard a loud _"PSST!" _in the backstage hallway.

A high pitched "squee" escaped from Todd as he dropped the broom, dustpan and Shmee on the ground.

"Wh-where are you?" quivered Todd.

"_Over here. Look at the picture…"_

Todd looked over to a framed photo of a skinny, cherry red spiky haired man in thick rimmed glasses; the founder of the Macabre Cabaret (nobody knows exactly what happened to him but some believe it involved a moose). The picture slid over to the right, revealing Johnny peering from behind a window roughly the same size of the picture.

"Hey Squeegee! Isn't this a nifty little thing?" chirped Johnny, looking around the window panes. "Anyways, I would like you to do me a favor."

"Do you need any band-aids?" asked Todd.

"No. Not this time. I have a letter that I would like you to deliver to Mademoiselle Elize. It's quite important."

"Um, I think she's calling some man about something."

"Just wait outside the door. I'm sure she'll have to notice you standing there. I know you can do it," said Johnny with the most cheerful of grins that could be misconstrued as demented.

Todd knew that smile all too well. The mere sight made him shake in his red canvas sneakers.

"AAAAIIIEEEK!! Please don't kill me, mister! Don't use me as bacon bits!" wailed Todd.

"Relax, Squee! I'm not gonna hurt you, I just want you to deliver this letter for me," said Johnny as he passed an envelope to Todd.

Reluctantly extending his small arm, Todd looked down at Shmee, his crooked, single toothed smile staring back at him.

"_Don't take it. Don't adopt his sickness!" _warned Shmee.

Todd clenched his eyes and squeamishly retrieved the envelope from Johnny. He opened his eyes and looked down at the paper, relieved that there wasn't a razor blade hidden in the envelope…or at least nothing of harm.

"Well, I better get going. I have a few guests that I need to attend to. Goodbye, Squee! Have a good day and don't encounter any rabid mongooses in heat!" smiled Johnny as he slid the picture frame over the window pane and vanished.

After fleeing from the backstage hallway with Shmee clutched under one arm and the envelope in his hands, Todd dashed up the staircase to the second level where Elize's office was located. Todd noticed the office door was left ajar with a small mist of cigarette smoke pouring through the cracks. He also heard murmurs of what was likely Elize on the phone. He tiptoed to the door and peered through the open door to see if Elize would be wrapping up her discussion.

From what Todd could see Elize sat on the desk top facing the window, her back turned to the door. The phone seemed to be practically glued to her ear while a cigarette slowly burned in between her fingers on her left hand.

"…so when you're done at the gym, would you mind making your way down here? That is if you want another workout…I'm wearing black leather ones…oh, you like the lace ones better? I see no problem with that, tiger…"

Elize heard a small cough. She turned around and noticed Todd by the door.

"Oh…um, well, uh, would you mind me calling you a little later? I-I have matters to attend to. Okay, bye."

With rapid speed, she hung up the phone, hopped off of her desk and sat on her cushy office chair.

"Oh…Todd!" Elize stumbled, "what is it?"

"Um, there's a note the creepy ghost man wanted me to give to you," said Todd.

Elize got up from her desk, put out her cigarette on the ashtray and walked over to Todd.

"Ghost man? That's a good one," said Elize as Todd passed her the envelope. She noticed a small red splotch seeping through one side of the envelope but opened the envelope without regard. She pulled out the letter and began to read it out loud.

_**Good day Mademoiselle Elize,**_

_**From what I have gathered, you became the newest owner of the Macabre Cabaret and as a long time "regular", I would like to offer you some instructions in regards to tonight…**_

_**Last night, A Murder of Crows performed with Devi as the lead singer. She was astonishing. She rises above every single act that has ever floundered in this shit hole. The audience loved her. I adored her more. I would like for you to have A Murder of Crows play again tonight but only if Devi can return to sing. If you do not fulfill my request, there will be a grave disaster tonight.**_

_**NNY**_

The scarlet signature dripped down the page as Elize lifted her head up from the note, her flat nose turning up to the ceiling.

"Hmm, 'grave disaster?' I don't know about that. Maybe it's his way of humor, a very warped sense of it, though. This "Nny" person and I do agree about one thing though. It seems as if he was reading my mind about A Murder of Crows. I'd love for them to play again tonight but I don't think I've seen that Devi girl come by today," said Elize. She placed the letter on her desk and reached for her pack of cigarettes. She pulled out another cigarette, lit it up and took a puff.

"Todd, according to this schedule, Tenna should be coming in this afternoon to help bring out the sound equipment. While I call for the band, you'll ask Tenna about Devi when she comes to work," said Elize.

"Okay."

"Good. Now I think the toilets need some scrubbing."

With a quiver and a flinch, Todd left the office to complete Elize's task.

Meanwhile, an old black Chevrolet pulled up in front of a tall fleshy pink brick apartment complex. Palm trees and tacky pink flamingos were spread across the dying, weed ridden grass in front of the building. A pale, short legged woman (her black leather platform boots gave her extra height) with short, overly slicked black hair and smothered on black lipstick stepped out of the car and walked into the building with an exact purpose in mind.

She reached the second floor of the building and stopped at a door with "23B" emblazoned in gold on it. She knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" a breathy voice mumbled from behind the door.

"Anne, it's me, Cleo," said the woman.

"Fine," said Anne as she unlocked the door.

The door was opened to reveal that the extravagant clothing and the elaborate makeup was absent from Anne Gwish. Her face remained pale but blemishes and blackheads were sprinkled beneath the baggy circles under her blue eyes. Her black hair was a tangled mess as she crossed her arms across her oversized, ratty grey sweater, trying to hide a certain incriminating logo: The LA High Cheerleading Squad.

"So, uh, what are you here to tell me? Did the guitar player from The Unbathed ask me out?" asked Anne.

"No, it's not about that," said Cleo.

"Well come in and tell me what's going on?" said Anne, motioning Cleo to come inside her studio apartment. Anne turned off the (intentionally) cobwebbed black and white TV that was playing "Bram Stoker's Chocula" for the umpteenth time and sat on her bed.

"Well, it's about A Murder of Crows," said Cleo.

"Cleo, I am so over that juvenile shit. I'm trying to grow and develop as a solo artist with a more mature, darker sound. I'm done with my early past," boasted Anne, then whispered, "what about them?"

"Well, I wasn't at the Macabre Cabaret last night but I heard from Darla who was there at the club when A Murder of Crows performed and said that they got some new girl to perform. Apparently she was really amazing and everyone loved her because that's what Lydia told me because that's exactly what she said to Morgan and then he heard from Drake that they'll probably be playing again at the club tonight but according to Jack nobody has seen the new girl ever since last night so maybe they might not perform at the club…" said Cleo with rapid, vapid speed.

"What?!" gasped Anne. "They have a new singer everyone loves that's missing?!"

"Yeah, I think the band's probably gonna rehearse or something."

"We need to get to the Macabre Cabaret, Cleo. They can't go on without a singer!"

"But didn't you say you were done with them?"

"Whatever, I can't let this new girl outshine the depth of my dark, understated elegance. If I want to make it as a solo artist, I have to take such action unless I want to fall into an even deeper pit of lonely, crushing darkness! Even if it means having to revisit my past."

With that, Anne rose up from her bed, arms still crossed, triumphantly.

"Cleo, we're going to the club…in three hours. I still gotta get dressed."


	6. Act One, Scene Five

**_DISCLAIMER: _**Need I say more?

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES: _**Ever since writing this story, I have found that my writing in this story has taken a direction into more graphic violence and stronger language. After much deliberation, I have decided from the next chapter on, the story will be bumped up to an 'M' rating.

* * *

_**ACT ONE**_

_**Scene Five**_

That afternoon, A Murder of Crows had gathered into the Macabre Cabaret for their sudden rehearsal. After they had finished setting up their equipment, all the band had left to do was wait for their vocalist to come.

Dillon paced back and forth on the stage, staring down at the ground while Tess was playing around with the keyboards, pressing random keys.

"Hey Edgar, do you have the time?" asked Tess.

Edgar looked up from his bass guitar and fished his pocket for his pocket watch. He grabbed the small gold watch, flipped it open and read the time: 2:30 PM.

"God, we've been here for almost two hours now. This has to be some kind of prank. That dumb bitch isn't here and we don't have anyone else on call for vocals," grunted Dillon.

"Surely we're here for some sort of reason, Dillon. They wouldn't have called us back for no reason," said Tess.

Suddenly, they heard a creaky door swing open with a ray of sunlight shining on the band members. Jimmy looked in the distance with his eyebrows raised.

"Hey, guys, isn't that—"

"Oh, fuck…it can't be," Dillon shook his head.

Decked in a black (faux) fur trimmed floor length coat and a clove cigarette in her right hand, Anne Gwish, followed by Cleo, entered the club with the same air of confidence a reigning queen would have walking through clusters of lowly peasants.

"Well, were you expecting that other girl? It truly is a disgrace she hasn't shown up for her own rehearsal. Such lack of passion and ambition to her craft as a musical artist, unlike myself," said Anne.

"Didn't you just say you were leaving the band to go solo just yesterday? Why the hell are you coming to us for? Besides, who the hell wears a fur coat in LA? During the summer?!" sneered Dillon.

"That was in the past, Dillon. One must go beyond what has happened in the past and mature into the future," said Anne as she took off her hefty coat and placed it into Cleo's arms.

"What past? What future exactly? What the hell are you talking about?" Tess piped in.

Anne paused to take a puff from her clove cigarette. Smoke blew from her black coated lips.

"I'm saying that I want back in the band. It's simple as that."

Jimmy's drumsticks fell from his fishnet gloved hands and onto the ground, meeting Dillon's jaw.

"What the…what?!" stuttered Dillon, his pierced eyebrow raised in utmost confusion.

"That's right. It's not like this other girl is going to show up any time soon. Music is my dream. Performing in front of an adoring audience is what keeps me from screaming in dark despair in my otherwise dreary existence. Please, consider this as an act of kindness towards a band, struggling to find their devoted following," pleaded Anne as she made her way onto the stage. She stopped to face Dillon. "Please, I can find your voice if you use mine tonight. Think about it…" She ran her finger down Dillon's chest as Tess cringed behind the keyboard.

"I still don't understand why you're doing this Anne. Didn't you call us all losers?" asked Edgar, pushing his glasses to the top of his large, flat nose.

"Hey, c'mon you guys! At least we'll have a singer tonight and we'll get paid for another night; performing for the Phantom Maniac. Who knows if he'll be here tonight to hear us perform," said Jimmy.

"Forget about the stupid phantom, Jimmy," barked Dillon. He took a deep breath and turned back to face Anne. "Considering the circumstances we're in right now, I can't believe I'm saying this but…" he mumbled then made eye contact, "you're singing with us tonight."

"Wonderful. I knew you all would come around," smirked Anne.

As she looked for the microphone, Todd had been watching the entire scene play out before him from the balcony on the second level. He stood motionless with Shmee clutched close to his chest.

"_What are you standing there for? This isn't good. You do remember the letter he gave you, didn't you? That pathetic excuse for a singer clearly is not Devi. A massacre is going to happen tonight if you don't take action. Tenna's in the sound booth right now. See her, NOW! Elize told you to," _Shmee scolded.

Todd eyed the sound booth at the end of the second level, adjacent from Elize's office. All he could see was Tenna lounging on a chair repeatedly squeaking Spooky. Todd's eyes widened as soon as he remembered the task he was given from Elize. He quickly dashed to the sound booth and banged his fists on the door.

"You gotta let me in, Tenna-person!! Everyone's gonna be chopped and killed and be screaming and screaming and oh you gotta help stop it!! SQUEEEE!!" screamed Todd, except the previous dialogue would have been greatly sped up and slurred into one giant word. Also, Jimmy was practicing another random, spastic drum solo which drowned out Todd's cries for help.

Tenna opened the door looking unfazed by the noisy shouting.

"Heya, kiddo! If you want someone to open the door, just knock on it. That's what Spooky would do," beamed Tenna as she thrust Spooky into Todd's face and squeaked the toy. "See, don't you like Spooky? I know he likes you! Come on in!" she smiled as she motioned Todd to enter the sound booth.

"So what was it you were yelling about, little boy?" asked Tenna.

"Todd."

"Oh, okay Todd," Tenna corrected herself, "what's the matter? Is there anything Spooky can do?"

"Um…do you know some girl named Devi?"

"Of course I do! I haven't seen her all day though. Why do you ask?"

"Well, um, could you pretty please make sure she comes tonight? Something really bad's gonna happen tonight if she doesn't sing. I'm really scared of what he's gonna do if she doesn't."

"Who's 'he?'"

"The creepy ghost man."

"Is this that Phantom Maniac guy everyone keeps talking about around here?"

"Uh-huh. When he says he'll kill somebody, he means it. So please find Devi today," Todd looked up at Tenna with imploring eyes that would put even the smallest, begging puppy to shame.

Tenna glanced at A Murder of Crows on the stage, particularly Anne Gwish practicing a round of vocal acrobatics, each run more excruciating than the last.

"Okay. I'll do all that I can to get Devi to the club tonight. Besides, I think she needs to get out more and have some fun…even if that means having to get that Anne Gwish chick booed offstage," said Tenna, giving Todd the thumbs-up.

Back on the stage, the band was ready to go into another run through of "A Thousand Shattered Blades". As Edgar began to play his role in the song, a sinking, nauseous feeling was setting in his stomach. He tried to ignore the hunch but as the song progressed, so did the feeling.

That evening, more and more patrons gathered into the Macabre Cabaret. High above the second level, Johnny sat on his usual perch: one of the many wooden planks hanging high above the club helping hold the building together. He studied masses on the dance floor below. His attention was turned to a couple at the bar who appeared to be snickering at a gangly, shy man with a devilock. The mere sight of such cattiness made Johnny cringe, clutching his fists.

"Let's see how you like having people laugh at you for having your head sliced open," he muttered to himself.

Back on the first level, Tenna, along with Devi, were sitting at a table in the corner farthest away from the dance floor. Tenna was bopping along to the beat of the bouncy, cheeky music while Devi was trying to pull the collar of her trench coat past her face.

"Man, I love Irken Sex Fanatic. Doesn't it make you just wanna get up and dance, eh Devi? Eh?" shouted Tenna over the loud music as she jabbed her elbow into Devi's rib.

"Tenna, there's no way I'm hell I'm gonna dance. It's already enough that the last twenty four hours have been really weird and creepy and now that you've dragged me out here tonight, I'm not gonna risk this evening being more fucked up than the night before," said Devi.

"Hey, I thought tonight would be good for you to get out of your apartment and take a break from it all; especially from supposedly fighting off the mongoose army."

"Hey, the mongoose army was nothing. It was that rabid beaver that was hard to get rid of escaping from that cellar."

The song stopped. The deejay stepped away from the turn table and took the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the encore performance from last night's amazing show, I give you A Murder of Crows!"

The sounds of the crowd cheering quickly made Devi and Tenna perk up to take notice. They saw the band make their way onto the stage and get behind their respective instruments while Anne sauntered onto the stage with yet another clove cigarette in her hand.

"Oh shit," shuddered Devi upon the mere sight of the vocalist.

"Oh, she'll get booed off. Trust me. She has nothing on you," said Tenna, her consolation repaid with a glare from her friend.

"Good evening, my darklings. How are you doing this fair night?" cooed Anne into the microphone in a tone that would come from a breathy vampire vixen. "We will begin with an ode to great pain and betrayal. Jimmy, dearest?"

Jimmy began his trademark rapid fire drum riff. The familiar chords ringing in her ears, Devi hunched over with her hands over her ears. _God, not this song. Anything but "A Thousand Shattered—"_

"_Look what you've done to me_

_You've left me here unexpectedly._

_And as the beauty of what was once love fades,_

_I fall into a thousand shattered blades…"_

Up on the planks, Johnny clenched his teeth and growled.

"They lied! They fucking denied me!! I used the blood from her painting for _nothing?! __They will pay!!"_

As Johnny sped away to the attic, Anne appeared lost in her own world, oblivious from the grumbling and frowning faces in the audience.

"_Stuck in this hole,_

_I can't find a goal_

_So I may just stay here_

_And disappear…"_

Loud boos and hisses interrupted Anne from singing the last line.

"Get off the stage, Elvira!!" boomed a male patron.

"Excuse me?! I'll have you know that I have more originality and innovation in my pinky finger than that wannabe does in her whole body! Elvira only wishes she was me!!" Anne hissed back at the crowd. "I know for sure that I am far more unique than everyone in this room. I'm far darker than you could ever dream of being. I mean, who the fuck wears corduroy pants to a goth club?!" she shouted at the devilocked man. She turned to point at another clubber, a heavy set girl in a vinyl gown. "And you?! I'm sorry darling but your fat ass can hardly be contained in that dress!"

With each insult Anne hurled back at the audience, Tess turned and hid herself from the audience.

"…haven't you heard of the saying 'friends don't let friends look like The Crow?!'" screamed Anne before she was cut off by a flying beer bottle. She quickly ducked but the bottle ended up hitting Jimmy on the head. The glass shattered as Jimmy was knocked out, landing on the shards of glass.

"Bring back the other girl!!" the thrower of the beer bottle yelled.

The audience cheered over the mention of 'the other girl' and continued to throw more items at Anne; crumpled pieces of paper, bottles, and a coffin purse among other things. Devi started to panic, her eyes darting around the club looking for some place to escape.

Anne scowled at the audience, her penciled, arched eyebrows contorting into a furrowed expression. "Fine then, fuck you!! Fuck each and every single one of you!!" she cried as she stormed off the stage. She locked herself into the dressing room and took out another clove cigarette. She inhaled, then exhaled the cloud of smoke, blocking out the reflection in the mirror. She couldn't see the dark, towering, figure slowly making his way towards her; steel tapping with each step.

"That is such a disgusting habit. It's only fitting for an equally grotesque creature…"

"How dare you—"

Anne was silenced with a swift slice across her chest.

Back in the club, while Tess was tending to Jimmy's injury, the audience began to grow impatient.

"C'mon! Bring out the other girl!!" one woman shouted.

Just as Devi was about to get up and head for the exit, Tenna took a hold of Devi's shoulder and plowed her through the crowd.

"Tenna! What are you doing!?" hissed Devi.

"C'mon, just sing something or else a riot's gonna break out!" said Tenna.

Edgar scanned the crowd left and right, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead and hoping for some sort of miracle. Amidst the dark shadows of the crowd, he spotted a familiar head of violet ponytails. He raced to the center spotlight and grabbed the microphone. "Devi?"

Devi's head shot up and met Edgar's eyes with a look of utter mortification. The rest of the patrons turned to stare at her.

"Is that her?" "I think so!" they chattered amongst themselves.

"Go on, get up there and sing for the nice people!" whispered Tenna as she shoved Devi onto the steps leading to the stage. She took small, stiff steps up the stairs and onto the stage. The audience burst into cheers once Devi stepped into the spotlight and was handed the microphone from Edgar. He gave her the smallest of sincere smiles. Leaning against an amplifier, Dillon shook his head. "I don't believe this…" he murmured to himself before putting down his guitar and walking out of the spotlight, off the stage and towards the back exit of the club.

"What are we gonna do? The drummer's out and Dillon just stormed off," Devi whispered to Edgar.

"Why don't you sing that other song you did yesterday?" Edgar whispered back.

Devi bit her lip, took a deep breath, lifted the microphone to her lips and began to sing.

"_Time is like a dream_

_And now for a time, you are mine._

_Let's hold fast to the dream_

_That tastes and sparkles like wine._

_Who knows (who knows)_

_If it's real_

_Or just something we're both dreaming of…"_

The audience became deathly quiet out of captivation, eager to hear what else would come from Devi. Edgar soon joined in playing a small, simple repeated bass chord. A casual, carefree duet was created.

Over in another room, deep beneath the club, Johnny dragged Anne's bloodied corpse into an even larger pile of the rotting deceased. He dropped the body as soon as he heard Devi's voice, echoing from above like a ghostly enchantress. He wandered to the elevator and pressed the button. Up he went, leaning against the wall, eyes closed; humming the song and the voice became louder with each level he ascended.

"_What seems like an interlude now_

_Could be the beginning of love…"_

As soon as Devi finished singing, the audience applauded and cheered. The tension in Devi's body was released as she whispered a small "thank you" into the microphone. She turned to face Edgar who had a humble smile hidden in the shadows of the spotlight.

Minutes later, the deejay returned to the stage to spin more tracks from Suzie and the Screamers. It freed up time for Devi and A Murder of Crows to unwind after the chaos and to tend to Jimmy. While Tess stayed back in the green room with Jimmy, Devi and Edgar took a seat at one of the tables on the side.

"I'm really relieved that you were able to come tonight. I don't know what we would have done if Anne hadn't made it or if a huge riot broke out," said Edgar.

"Oh, well my friend Tenna kinda dragged me out here tonight," said Devi, pointing to Tenna dancing crazily in the crowd.

"Ah. Well, um, if you don't mind me asking, what happened to you last night? We would have paid you upfront but we had no idea where you went. It was really weird. It's like I heard you in the dressing room but then you disappeared…"

Devi shifted in her seat and rubbed her hands nervously.

"Oh…it's…kind of a long story. I can't really explain it but it was just as weird as you thought it would be…" she muttered the last part quietly.

Edgar raised his eyebrows.

"Hmm. Well, if you don't want to talk about it then it's up to you…"

Despite the music blaring, silence wafted between the two.

"Um," Edgar cleared his throat, "w-would you like a drink? You must be thirsty after singing."

"Oh sure, I don't mind. This club gets pretty hot and sweaty when you're in a trench coat."

"Absolutely."

Devi and Edgar left the table and made their way through the crowds and over to the bar on the other side of the club.

"I don't drink very often so is there any drink you want in particular? It's on me."

"Just some water is fine. You don't have to pay; I've got money on me."

As they reached the bar, a scraggly bald young man with a scar on his forehead wearing a stained white shirt swayed in his bar stool and faced Devi and Edgar.

"Hey, aren't you that stupid bitch and skinny fag that sang up there?" he slurred.

"I beg your pardon?" Edgar questioned.

"Yeah you scrawny little shit bags. I didn't come here to see no pussy ass goth faggots sing…uh, shitty songs. It's not like you even had big tits to keep me watching…" the man said as he weakly reached his arm out to Devi's chest, barely missing her left breast.

"Hey, look, if you wanted to see big tits, then you should have gone to a strip club," Devi shot back while taking a step backward.

"Are you trying to be smart with me, princess? Trying to act all cute? Don't you dare try to talk that fucking way to me, fucker," yelled the man as he got up from the stool, his fists tightly clenched.

Edgar quickly stepped in front of Devi.

"Look, all she wants is a drink so could you please just let us be?" reasoned Edgar.

"Fuck, how many asswipes do I have to kick the shit out of in a day?" snarled the man as he slugged Edgar across the face. Edgar fell to the ground with a thud. He was only greeted with a sharp kick to the stomach. Devi's mouth dropped. A fire was building up inside her.

"What the fuck did you do that for?! He didn't do anything to you!" she yelled.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch. You're next along with your little fuck…face…friend. Dammit! Don't even _try_ to make me come up with an original curse!" screamed the man, his fist flying out towards Devi. She caught his fist in her hand and used her other hand to uppercut the man in his stomach. Caught off guard, the man fell and hit his head on the steel bar railing. The impact of the hit made him lose consciousness, leaving him to fall to the floor. Devi kneeled down to Edgar, whose glasses had cracked from the impact of the punch, leaving a bruise formed around his eye and blood trickling from his nose.

"Are you okay, Devi?" coughed Edgar.

"Yeah, we should probably get you to a hospital and get you and Jimmy checked out," said Devi. She lifted Edgar from the floor and put his arms around her shoulders for support. As they trailed off to the green room, the badly beaten man blinked his eyes repeatedly before everything drifted and became black to him…

Slowly blinking, the man was brought back to consciousness but quickly noticed that the area he was in wasn't familiar. Flickering light bulbs; rusty chains and hooks hanging from the ceiling; the foul stench of death was present. He was prevented from exploring his surroundings due to his body being holstered on the hard, flat table. The holster across his forehead was especially tight. He noticed Johnny peering above him like a bloodthirsty vulture.

"Good day…whatever your name is," greeted Johnny, his arms behind his back.

"I-it's Krik you skinny little motherfucker!! Let me go or I'll kick your ass!!" boomed Krik.

Johnny let out a hearty laugh.

"How can you exactly 'kick my ass' if you've been restrained on this table? Impending death really does make people act like such animals, struggling to gain supremacy above their hunter…but it's quite hopeless."

"Ugh! Big words! Hold on, you said _you _were gonna kill me?!"

"Yes, quite severely at that. If you couldn't appreciate the superior beauty of Devi's voice, then surely you would rather appreciate the sound of your own despicable voice screaming at me to make the pain end…" said Johnny as he brandished the large, thick steel mallet and raised it above Krik's head.

"What the fuck do you think you're—"

SMASH!!

Johnny removed his blood splattered coat and brushed off the excess droplets on his shirt. He stretched out his long, toothpick arms and smiled gleefully.

"What a fucking great night!" he said cheerfully.


	7. Act One, Scene Six

_**ACT ONE**_

_**Scene Six**_

Six weeks had passed since that infamous Saturday night at the Macabre Cabaret. Despite the carnage and chaos that occurred that evening, a fellow musician who was at the club offered A Murder of Crows perhaps the most plum and prestigious gig they had ever received: becoming an opening act for Ditchspade Symphony's nationwide tour.

After weeks of rehearsals and preparation, the tour was about to kick off at the first venue, the place where it all began; the Macabre Cabaret.

Over in the men's dressing room, Edgar had twenty minutes left to spare on his own. Dillon and Jimmy had left to rehearse some last minute notes and to take a few quick swigs of red wine. Edgar scanned the room and settled on the hard black case for his bass guitar. He carefully opened up the case, gently removed his bass guitar and reached for a thick hardcover book originally obscured by the guitar; his Bible.

Edgar flipped the massive book open and thumbed through the thin pages to the section where he last left off. He tuned out the thunderous, guitar heavy music of London Afternoon filling the airwaves of the club and let himself become absorbed with the spiritual passages that withstood the ravages of time. He took a deep breath and exhaled, calmed and at peace. He wouldn't know how long he would have times like these to himself while on tour but one thing he knew was that he wanted this time of private serenity and to enjoy every second of it.

A loud knock on the door interrupted Edgar's brief moment of solitude. The pounding startled him as he shuffled in his seat, the Bible falling from his hands.

"Just a minute!" he said as he picked up his Bible, hid it behind his guitar case and made his way to the door. He opened the door to reveal Devi standing before him, looking much more comfortable in both her stage ensemble and with herself.

"Hey, we're going on in a bit and Elize is wondering where the rest of the band is," said Devi. She noticed Edgar's apprehensive stance by the doorway.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Oh? Me? I-I'm doing okay," he replied as he smoothed out the wrinkles on his black shirt.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's been a while since that bar fight. Are you sure you aren't inflicted with amnesia?"

"Oh, right, that, heh. Don't worry, I'm doing okay."

"Fine, what's my name then?"

"Devi."

"Okay, I believe you now. C'mon, skinny boy, let's go."

As Devi and Edgar were making their way towards the rest of the band at the other end backstage, they were stopped by Todd. His hands were behind his back.

"Um, uh, are you Devi?" stammered Todd.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Um, someone asked me to give this to you…"

Todd timidly handed Devi a red rose with a small tag tied to the thorny stem with a black ribbon.

"Who is this from?" asked Devi but it was too late. Todd had already scuttled off. Devi looked at the tag on the card. A small gasp escaped from Devi as soon as she read the contents of the tag…

_**To Devi,**_

_**NNY**_

Edgar noticed the look of fear in Devi's eyes. It was as if her strong soul was replaced with one of a weak, feeble creature.

"Devi? Are you alright?" asked Edgar.

"What? Oh. I'm fine. I'm fine. It's okay. It's nothing. Nothing at all," Devi said quickly and defensively.

"Hey!! Get your bony asses over here! We're going on in a few minutes!" shouted Dillon as he swayed his glass of wine, a few droplets landing on the floor.

As Devi and Edgar quickly rushed to the band, Devi hesitated as to where to place her gift. She gently placed the rose by her dressing room door then followed Edgar to the other Crows.

An undeniable buzz was setting in the crowd. As they flocked to the center of the dance floor, Johnny swung over to his usual perch and took a seat. The lights were dimming. His wicked grin widened as he looked on with great anticipation.

"Sing like the transcendent goddess that you are. Sing like you rise above this rotting, disgusting planet…" he whispered to himself.

A slow, brooding synthesized melody filled the crowded club, its repetition hypnotizing the audience. A smoky green spotlight brightened the center of the stage, highlighting Devi hidden away in the shadows. She lifted the microphone to her lips, looked out to the audience and began to sing…

"_That day still stays in my mind_

_The day you were left behind_

_It wasn't my choice,_

_I couldn't find my voice…"_

Silence. A screaming, soaring electric guitar, courtesy of Dillon, kicked in and changed the pace of the melody.

"_I wanted to run to you_

_But I only stood still on the ground._

_I wanted to scream out loud_

_But we were nowhere to be found…"_

A shiver traveled through Johnny's body. He leaned in closer, letting the music wrap around him like a cloak. A tear glistened on his sharp defined cheek bone.

"_All I could do was stare at you_

_Falling deep into the blue_

_I don't know what I can do_

_I can only be drowning in you_

_Drowning in you…"_

Devi could barely hear her own voice escalate well beyond the roof tops of the club due to the cheering of the crowds and screeching of the guitar. Johnny peered down at the stage; he couldn't help but notice the sweat trickling down her temples, truly pouring every ounce of her into the song only to be invaded by Dillon's intrusive guitar. It infuriated him to hear this strong voice become powerless to aching, strained shrieks.

The five song set ended with tremendous amounts of applause and resounding chants for Devi. It appeared that Ditchspade Symphony would have quite the act to follow, considering this was only the opening act. As A Murder of Crows exited the stage, the band members were greeted by the two front women of Ditchspade Symphony.

"Holy shit, you guys freakin' rocked out there! You especially!" raved the woman with purple and pink dreadfalls as she pulled in Devi for a hug.

"Oh, um, thanks," said Devi humbly, "I'm still not quite used to all this but thanks…"

"Don't worry about it! You guys are gonna kick ass on this tour!" smiled the other woman with blue and black streaked hair. Soon, the two women along with their fellow band members were being prattled onto the stage.

"Oh my God, we did it, you guys!" shouted Tess.

"Wonder if the Phantom Maniac liked us?" beamed Jimmy.

Devi's face turned pale.

"Phantom Schmantom my ass! You guys head over to the green room and I'll get us some more booze," said Dillon.

As the rest of the band retreated to the "green" room, Dillon walked the opposite direction over to the men's dressing room. A merger of the pounding music and the ringing in Dillon's ears blocked out the ominous steel taps inching closer and closer towards him. Before he could open the door, a rough lasso tightened itself around Dillon's neck and jerked him away from the doorknob.

The ladies of Ditchspade Symphony proceeded to prove that they were able to perform at the same level as their opening act…but little did they know they were about to be upstaged.

The dreadfalled vocalist was quickly approaching the bridge of their gloomy anthem, the keyboardist adding touches to the final buildup.

As if on cue, a lifeless body tied to a noose flopped from the ceiling but barely missed the ground. Cheers quickly morphed into mortified shrieks. The drummer gazed at the body slowly swaying back and forth in front of him before breaking into a fit of vomiting. The singer turned around and quickly noticed that familiar face; that mohawk, those piercings.

"Isn't that…oh FUCK!!" she howled in horror before fainting.

As the rest of Ditchspade Symphony rushed to the singer's aid, Elize quickly ran up to the stage and grabbed the microphone from the unconscious singer.

"Ahem, uh, ladies…and gentlemen, I-I assure you that this was all planned in advance. The guitarist here is also a, uh, trained stuntman. Yes, that's it!"

Elize turned around and saw the body, still motionless, still swaying.

"Oh, fuck…" she huffed under her breath, perhaps a little too audibly into the microphone.

Meanwhile, back in the "green" room, the screams (and occasional hurling sounds) baffled the remaining Crows.

"What the fuck's goin' on out there, man?" asked Jimmy.

"Yeah, and Dillon said he was gonna get the drinks twenty minutes ago. Where the hell could he be?" Tess chimed in.

Just then, Tenna barged into the room. She struggled to catch her breath as she squeaked Spooky repeatedly.

"Tenna! Tenna?" pondered Devi, "what's everyone screaming—"

"Dillon…Dillon…" panted Tenna, "he's dead! His body's just hanging there above the stage on a noose!"

Tess let out a loud gasp.

"Oh my god, Dillon's dead?! Oh…" Tess paused briefly. "Say, um, uhh…Edgar, do you know how to play guitar?"

Edgar gave Tess a dumbfounded look. His eyes clearly showed he was caught off guard by Tess' request.

"Well, I, uh, a little but I-I'm sure I can give it a try!" stuttered Edgar.

Devi's jaw dropped. Her blood turned cold. It wasn't the death of Dillon that disturbed her but it was the mere fact of knowing exactly who the culprit behind the murder would be. She fidgeted on the couch as her eyes darted around the room searching for at least some kind of emergency exit. _Oh fuck, oh fuck, why couldn't there be some kind of vent in here or something?_

Finally, she settled on grabbing Edgar by the wrist and dragging him along with her to the "green" room door.

"Look, I don't know about you guys but I'm getting the fuck out of here!" yelled Devi before she, along with Edgar, bolted out of the room. She continued to tug Edgar along like a freight train down to the emergency exit at the other end of the backstage hallway. What was normally a two minute stroll felt like two thousand miles.

"Shouldn't you be dragging Tess and Jimmy along with you? I mean, my arm's hurting quite a bit. Could you at least loosen your grip?" asked Edgar.

"They'll be following us out. They know where the exit is but we really need to talk!" barked Devi as they brushed past the last dressing room door before the exit door, completely overlooking the lone red rose leaning against the door.

Devi and Edgar stepped out from the club into a dark back alley. Countless speckled stars shone through the smoggy, polluted clouds in the midnight sky. A sweltering, humid air still remained despite the presence of night.A bright spotlight emitting from a street lamp barely shone on the sweaty, slender duo.

Before each of them could recollect their breath, Edgar noticed Devi staring down at the ground, her bare arms tightly crossed.

"Devi? You said you wanted to talk to me about something. Is…is everything okay?" asked Edgar, lowering his head trying to see if there was a telling expression on Devi's face.

Devi bit her lip and sighed.

"I saw him…" she breathed softly.

"Hmmm?"

"I-I saw him," she spoke with slightly more volume.

"Who? Dillon?"

"No, _him. _Nny, the Phantom Maniac."

Edgar paused and cocked his head.

"The Phantom Maniac? Isn't he just a myth everyone's made up here?"

"He's real, Edgar. I know."

"Hmmm…" he nodded his head. "How so, exactly?"

"Look, I know I sound like a nutcase in the looney bin but just hear me out, okay?"

"Alright. I'm listening."

"Okay…you know the first gig I performed with you guys? Everyone was wondering where I was…I was with Nny. Well, his name is actually Johnny but he also goes by Nny. He took me down to a secret passageway and led me to his secret underground lair beneath the club. We talked for a little bit and I think I may have passed out or something at one point. When I woke up…I found a knife," she stopped, and then gulped.

"What kind of knife?" asked Edgar, stroking the small tuft of hair on his chin.

"A butcher knife. A really bloody one…I…I" Devi quivered before finally spitting it out. "I think he wanted to kill me."

Edgar raised his eyebrows.

"I remember he was yelling at me and telling me I was fucking complicated. I-I find the whole thing extremely fucking weird myself. I don't get it…he was completely kind to me, intelligent and seemed supportive of me. He said he loved the way I sang and asked me to sing for him…but then he was losing it and freaking out. It's weird that he's killed Dillon…and I think he killed Anne Gwish too. Is he working his way up to me or is he just bumping them off in order to get me ahead in the band?" said Devi; every word had been uttered quickly.

"Okay…so, if I'm getting this straight, you think he killed Dillon and Anne and you think he's planning to get you farther in the band…or you think he's going to kill you?" asked Edgar.

"He gave me that rose tonight…"

The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to come together for Edgar. He flashed back to Devi's submissive nature upon receiving the rose.

"Oh. _Ohh…_"

"I, I just don't get it. He wants me to succeed…but does he have to go about it this way? Fuck…fuck…" said Devi, her throat began to feel tight and heavy. "F-fuck…I'm confused…" she choked. She turned away from Edgar, hoping he wouldn't see her trying her hardest to keep her eyes from watering.

"Devi…" he timidly reached towards her and slowly, but gently rested his hand on her shoulder. Her shoulders dropped upon his touch, acknowledging his caring gesture. "Tonight's the last time we're going to be here for a very long time. We're going to different cities and we'll all be busy with this tour. You'll be far away from him. He won't be able to harm you in any way. There's no way he'll follow us from city to city. Don't forget, you have all of us with you. We'll all make sure everyone's doing okay and, um…I'll be there for you. I'll make sure you're okay…"

After a small gap of silence, Devi took a deep breath and turned around. A small smile was on her face.

"Thank you…" she said softly.

"You're welcome," he replied, nodding his head.

The two stood in front of each other, inches apart. They both stared at the stars shining down upon them. Sweet silence filled their ears. The screaming ceased. The music remained in the club. Their eyes wandered from the sky and back to each other. Either both had tapped into instinct or there was something else in the moist air, but both Devi and Edgar took small steps towards each other. Hesitantly, they wrapped their arms around each other. Devi rested her head against Edgar's chest, feeling safe and relieved over the thought of gaining an ally. Edgar closed his eyes, savoring the embrace, something so new and unfamiliar. Being the black sheep of A Murder of Crows was isolating but it felt wonderful to have someone there and to offer them comfort at the same time.

Devi and Edgar reveled in the final moments of their spontaneous embrace before letting go. They both inhaled deeply, and then exhaled.

"I suppose we should find the others, don't you think?" suggested Edgar.

"Yeah, they're probably wondering where the hell we went," said Devi.

"I think I remember where they parked. Let's go," said Edgar. He and Devi walked together, at the same pace unbeknownst to each other, in search of the other Crows and Ditchspade Symphony.

Meanwhile, Devi and Edgar had been completely unaware that there was another set of eyes watching them from the roof tops of the Macabre Cabaret. Johnny continued to watch them walk away. He stood as still as the lavish gargoyles at the front entrance of the club. His jaw trembled as hot tears streaked down from his eyes.

"I did it all for her…" he growled under his breath. "I fucking slaughtered them for her…"

He clenched a rose in his gloved fist, piercing the skin. The petals crumpled and tore off the stem inside his grasp. He loosened his grip and let the rose fall from his hand. His breathing became hard and heavy, panting like a rabid wolf. He ran to the center of the roof top and screamed to the stars; a scream of strain and rage, bigger than his wiry, small build. The power of the scream caused him to loose his balance and fall to his knees. A new kind of thirst and yearning fired up within him. He took out his butcher's knife, the stars reflecting in the large, sharp blade.

"Yes…yes…_blood will be shed…"_ he hissed.

_**END of ACT ONE**_


End file.
